Never Let Fear Decide Your Fate
by Renfields-Spider
Summary: Kaidan/mShep - A continuation/sequel of 'Wake the Sea of Silent Hope'. Set Post ME3. Unaware of each others survival, Shepard and Kaidan find themselves looking for answers on Earth, still fighting again those who want to use Reaper Tech for their own gain. Mulit-POV.


Author's note: This story is meant as a sequel to 'Wake the Sea of Silent Hope'. I don't think it is necessary to have read it to enjoy this story, but I think it would be more satisfying to do so, because of the little details. Otherwise, just assume this starts from after the end of the game.

Well, I met an old man

Dying on a train.

No more destination,

No more pain.

'Major?'

I'd lost count of the dead, there were so many. I gave myself credit for trying at least. Ever present they sought to keep the memories fresh in my mind. I'd entered a constant state of shock. Bodies of families huddled together slaughtered by the Reapers troops took their toll, in piecemeal, on my soul. I was numb. We tried to identify them at first but digging tags and Id chips out of decomposing flesh got old reeeaal quick. Instead we gathered and finished the incineration and laid their ashes with the dust of those which sought to kill them. I tried to give dignity, I tried to care, but after a while just getting that day's quota done was all that mattered.

'Major?'

'Sorry, mind wandered.'

'You wanna say anything?'

'May your rest be more peaceful than your death.'

The switch turned and the fire roared, white hot and angry. I watched the light consume them. It was fair to say I envied it was over for them. Surviving had its own costs. Not that I was ungrateful, just... reflective.

'That's the last for today, Sir.'

'Ok. Thanks.'

'Sir? If you don't mind my asking, do you wanna come and eat with us tonight?' The pity wasn't hidden, but it was well meant and I appreciated the effort. The young man's face was grimy from the digging but hopeful.

'Um, thanks but I've got a thumping headache, I need to go lay down for a bit first.'

'If you change your mind we meet up in the mess about seven.'

'Ok, thanks, I'll see how I feel.'

They go off laughing and joking, making light of the dark work we do. Talking shit about death like it was nothing. I really don't have time for that sort of companionship. It used to be me. The back slapping, the laughing in the face of death with the attitude of fuck it all. But now, just seeing it, let alone experiencing being a part of a team again… no, I just couldn't.

I walked back to the reamed out apartment I am sleeping in. There are parts of the city that are totally devastated. The clear up is insurmountable. The levelled areas are no-go zones. The carcasses of Reapers dot the landscape as far as the eye can see. A sea of Monolithic gravestones marking the end of the world we knew. I volunteered for the clean-up. One day I'm digging out bodies, next I'm clearing buildings of Reaper troops. The Reapers puppets are no fun either. I've been told two thirds dropped dead once their connection was severed from whomever was controlling them. I think two thirds is a guess, maybe a hope. They are chaotic and have no sense of their own. The Reaper grown ones are the ones we find dead. It's the converted that cause the real problems. I guess they remember life, it's twisted now, but still they cling to it.

Life is pretty grim. But there are moments every day that give light and life to what we are collectively doing. As I walk I see the vertical gardens that climb most buildings, the green is most welcome. Everybody is responsible for growing something. I see Quarian's handing out food and water purifiers. The Turian's here organise and lead clean up with the Krogan. Not all the Alien's stranded here stayed, but those who did were directly loyal to Shepard's principles of co-operation. There were also the factions who thought make Earth was weak enough to take. Honestly, I stopped paying attention to who fought who.

I opened the door to my ramshackle place. Whoever lived here before did not return. I chose it as a place to bunk as the roof had a huge skylight. Stupidly it reminded me of the Normandy at night, I like the darkness and the stars. It's outside the power grid, so I have little in the way of light. The water works though, I managed to get a solar pump fitted and rigged a tank on the roof. The first thing I do is strip down and shower. It's as quick as I can make it. I wash the ashes of the dead away. I am grateful for that small luxury.

I pick up the data pad resting on the pillow and slide into the bed. I place my gun in the space next to me. My boots and gear are right next to the bed. Even though the threat has past, I am aware that we are not quite safe yet. I resume my reading of _The Primark's Fall._ It's not my first reading of it. I find it comforting, despite it's depressing subject matter. The headache I have pounds and I take some of the meds I have for the pain. I've enquired about having the implant removed, I'm on a waiting list. Once the meds kick in sleep takes hold pretty quickly.

The sky is burning, bright orange and red. Fire rains down but I stand fearlessly watching it fall. I know I am dreaming. It's one of the side effects of the malfunctioning implant, my unconscious speaks to me in a way it never could before. I see Shepard standing beside me, gun in hand. He beckons and I follow him, of course. We encounter husks and fight back to back. I prefer the dreams that are a little more personal, but I'll take what I can get. The times we fought side by side are pure and nothing can take away that feeling of closeness in battle, that complete trust of having each other's lives in our hands.

When I wake I hear scuffling about outside the bedroom. I pick up my gun and carefully walk to the door. I am not surprised to see Garrus rooting around in the kitchen-diner. I go back in the bedroom and find some trousers to put on. I say nothing as I walk into the room. He pretends not to notice me. I sit down and watch him opening the ration pack boxes I have.

'Is there something in particular you are looking for, General?'

'Yes, some food but it appears you eat these?' Garrus holds up a ration pack, one that is clearly marked non-dextro.

I smile and lean against the table.

'You know that already, you brought them for me.'

'You've only eaten four? In a week?' His mandibles clicked in annoyance.

'I eat breakfast in the mess every day!'

Garrus waves his hands about and excites the dust. It makes me think I should clean more. Do people dust in the apocalypse?

'You mean you drink coffee in the mess every day.'

'I eat there in the evening sometimes too.'

'Uh-huh, but not last night.'

'No, my head was screaming.'

The scowl was unrelenting.

'You're losing weight.'

'It's the new diet I'm on.'

'That's not funny.'

'They had barbeque last night, there was just no way I was eating.'

'You could get off the detail for a while you know.'

'I know.'

'Then why don't you?'

'We haven't finished cleaning up yet.'

'You know you are human, right?'

'Yes, why?'

'Well your lifetime is a lot shorter than the time it will take to clear the mess here, you know that right?'

I look at Garrus to see if he's being a smart mouth. The jaw line tells me he means it.

'So give up?' I don't hide the incredulity in my voice.

'No… have a break. Go see your parents.' He dragged out the word parents, extending the vowel sounds.

'I'm not feeling that right now.'

'Well if you don't they'll just come here you know. That's what parents do.'

'Do you remember four weeks ago when you had a tantrum because someone used your gun?'

The silence is stony. Garrus does not want to be reminded of his lapse. We try to look out for each other because there are so few who know what we've been through. Not that we are special or anything, just Shepard's crew, which kind of made us part of a club. A special club of PTSD ridden fuck ups, but special none the less. I got radioed by one of Garrus's subordinates and I went by shuttle to his location, which was just south of the Thames. One of the humans there told me Garrus was 'shit-faced' which I worked out to be extremely drunk. Not sure where he got the Turian alcohol. When I got to him he was cradling his gun, drinking. He gave me a drink, which I put to one side since it would do me harm. We sat for a long time in silence. I couldn't think of one positive thing to say. So I said what was on my mind.

'Shepard would have a rousing pep talk prepared for you. I don't. I'm sorry. All I have is my inadequate company and crappy Jokes.'

Garrus looked at me confused.

'What jokes?'

'I said they were terrible.'

I remember how he chuckled, which made me laugh too.

'Good enough, Kaidan, good enough.'

My mind comes back to the present and Garrus is still scowling at me.

'I remember,' he says slowly, the tone warning me I am on thin ice, 'I remember thinking I liked your crappy jokes.'

'Do remember how you felt when I called your father?'

'Oh, I see. You are trying to appeal to my sensitive side. Except my father has been watching me like a hawk since. Why shouldn't I call Mr & Mrs Alenko and let them know how frail you are looking?'

'You wouldn't?'

'Wouldn't I? Wanna test me soldier boy?'

He holds the stare for as long as he can before the low growl starts to rumble and the laugh begins to form.

'You are a shit, Garrus.'

'Oh come now, your face. I don't know what you are more scared of? Eh? Them seeing you in this state or the fact you'll have to acknowledge that truth you are hiding.'

'Which one?'

'Which truth?'

I nod.

'Well we'll start with the easy one, shall we?

'Ok, shoot.'

'Your addiction.'

I stare in shock at Garrus and then the laugh bubbles up from deep inside. I laugh hard, tears form briefly but eventually the fit subsides. Garrus is not laughing.

'What is so godman funny, Kaidan? I'm being serious here.'

'What am I addicted too exactly?'

'I don't know. But you sleep longer than you should, you're losing weight, you don't eat, you don't socialise, you want little to do with friends and family. You have all the signs. Somethings stopping you from moving on.'

'I take the meds the doc gives me for the migraines. I don't drink because of the migraines. I eat enough, but honestly if you saw what I dug out of the rubble most days I can assure you that you'd not be running to the mess any time soon.'

'Right.'

'Wait… is that what you are looking for? Well go ahead and search, just put the coffee on and save me the bother.'

I walk off to the bathroom and start running the shower. I'm a bit pissed at Garrus. He's way off on this one. I shower quickly and get dressed. I smell the food Garrus has cooked for me. It's not hard, it's just usually add water to the ration packs. It's not the greatest smell mingled with coffee, but I'd smelt worse recently. I sit down to eat and As Garrus watches me. I shove a forkful in and realise he's made curry for breakfast. I honestly don't care at this stage.

'Are you going to watch me eat it all?'

Garrus crossed his arms and leant back against the counter. I noticed his armour is worse for wear. It's pitted and dented, scratched and melted in some places. In every way it exemplifies Garrus, as a survivor. His beady cobalt eyes watch me and I can almost see the mechanisms of his thinking turning.

'Yes I am.' And he does. 

Xxxx

So he wakes. Tam didn't think he would, but the eyes were flickering and the breathing had become irregular. At least not dying irregular. The blue eyes flicked open and shut a few times, trying to adjust. Tam waited.

'Wh-'

'No don't speak yet, here drink some water first.'

'Where?' His voice was raspy and unused.

'Where are you?'

'In the 'Burgh.' He looked confused so Tam clarifies. 'Edinburgh hospital.'

'Reapers?'

'Dead.'

'Do you remember your name?' He paused Tam could see he trying to remember. Tam found his tags partially welded to his chest, it wasn't a pleasant job peeling them out.

'J…' he tries but a coughing fit takes him. Tam pointed at the water and he took another sip.

'I'll save you the bother, eh? It's Jenkins and you have survived. I dinnae know how exactly, but here y'are.'

'How long…'

'How long have you been out?' He nodded, 'It's hard to say. A month and a half at the most, but you've been here two weeks.'

His eyes widen in surprise and then he winces because the skin around his left eye is healing from a full thickness burn. The skin is pink and raw looking, but soft. It gave his cheekbone some pizazz.

'You need to be careful now, Jenkins. You've got a lot of still healing burns, like that one on your eye there. The skin is delicate and weak like a bairn's. There's not much info on you, but it looks like you survived a downed ship. Your lungs were… let's just say they were scorched. I'm not sure exactly how you survived, but you have extensive implants from a previous trauma, I'm guessing, and I think they have played a massive part in your recovery.'

Jenkins looked away, his eye's flitting around trying to take in the immediate area.

'I see that look, lad. Evict all thoughts of immediate movement. The Reaper's are dead, Shepard destroyed them. Fuck, I dinnae know if you can even walk at this stage.'

Jenkin's stared at Tam his mouth forming a line. He waited for the words to come, it would tell him all he needed to know about this man. He rested his head back and smiled, the thin scar that ran down over the corner of both lips pulled slightly, distorting it. He shut his eyes and slept again, but the slight smile did not leave his face. 


End file.
